


Cause Fear

by Pawthorn



Series: Truth and Consequences [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau Is a Good Bro, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Critical Role Spoilers, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Kind of Caduceus-centric even though he isn't in it much?, Mighty Nein as Family, POV Caleb Widogast, Slightly shippy at the end, Spoilers through Episode 111, Threats, Trent Ikithon Being an Asshole, Worry, psychological attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pawthorn/pseuds/Pawthorn
Summary: When the plain, innocuous envelope arrived, Caleb ignored it for exactly forty-seven minutes.He had just closed another thoroughly unhelpful tome-- gently, no matter how frustrated he was, he wasn't Beauregard, and it wasn't the book's fault-- when the envelope caught his attention again. Caleb sighed, taking it up as he stretched out the kinks in his neck. The weight was strange; it didn't feel like a letter, or even paper inside. Curiosity sparked as he broke through the plain wax seal. When at last he peered inside, his thoughts stuttered to a halt.There, resting innocently at the bottom of the envelope, was a lock of hair. About three inches long, tied neatly with a length of red ribbon. Dwendalian red. Blood red. The lurid hue clashed sickly with the soft, familiar hair it held. Pink hair, flecked with delicate streaks of white.There was no note or writing on the envelope. Its meaning was clear all the same.---------------Ickithon knows he can get to Caleb through the Mighty Nein. And one member has made himself the obvious target.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast
Series: Truth and Consequences [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949449
Comments: 13
Kudos: 109





	Cause Fear

It arrived while they were at the Rexxentrum archive.

They had all been desperate for distraction, for progress, for answers after their visit to Mollymauk's grave. After Jester's scry. Once they made it back to the capital, Caleb had returned to the Cobalt Soul with Beauregard. They poured through the library's vast collection, rifling through all they could find on the Astral Sea, resurrection, planar travel, anything remotely related to the converging threads of the web they found themselves caught up in.

So, when the plain, innocuous envelope arrived, Caleb ignored it for exactly forty-seven minutes.

He had just closed another thoroughly unhelpful tome-- gently, no matter how frustrated he was, he wasn't Beauregard, and it wasn't the book's fault-- when the envelope caught his attention again. Caleb sighed, taking it up as he stretched out the kinks in his neck. The weight was strange; it didn't feel like a letter, or even paper inside. Curiosity sparked as he broke through the plain wax seal. When at last he peered inside, his thoughts stuttered to a halt.

There, resting innocently at the bottom of the envelope, was a lock of hair. About three inches long, tied neatly with a length of red ribbon. Dwendalian red. Blood red. The lurid hue clashed sickly with the soft, familiar hair it held. Pink hair, flecked with delicate streaks of white.

There was no note or writing on the envelope. Its meaning was clear all the same.

Caleb processed all of this in the blink of an eye, but it took his body a full minute to catch up, as he stared unblinking at the lock.

And now, it had been forty-eight minutes.

He scrambled to his feet, carelessly knocking books and scrolls to the floor. Several feet away, Beauregard startled and let out a stream of curses. His hands shook as he shoved the envelope at her, unwilling and unable to stop and explain. She would figure it out, as he had. She understood this world. And she could catch up. He cast Expeditious Retreat on himself, and ran for the exit.

Beau was at his side before he made outside, envelope in hand.

"Was there a note?" She asked, voice husky and shaking with emotion even as she sprinted beside him.

He shook his head, both to save his breath, and because his voice would probably fail if he tried to use it.

"Okay," she said, swiping away sweat that had nothing to do with exertion. "Okay. So we find him. Wherever they took him, whatever they did. We find him. Jester. She can send a message, or maybe scry…"

Caleb nodded, but he knew it would be no use. If this was what he thought it was-- an attack on Caleb's soul and sanity targeted at the member of the Nein who had stood up for him the most at that cursed dinner-- there would be no tracing their friend, not by physical or magical means. They would not have been given the hair unless he was unlocatable… or they meant for him to be found.

Caleb swallowed down bile, wishing for the first time in years he had faith enough to pray.

But even if he couldn't call on the gods, he had faith in his friends. They had done the impossible before. They could do it again. They had to.

He had to recast Expeditious Retreat once before they made it back to the inn where he had left the Tower. Caleb wasn’t sure anyone would be there; they had all scattered that morning, but he hadn't dismissed the spell. He thought some of their group might want the privacy and safety it afforded.

He and Beauregard barreled through the dingy hallways of the inn, getting odd looks as they sprinted to the correct room and slammed the door open. Locking it behind them, they hurried to the wardrobe and through the magical portal.

“JESTER!” Beau hollered from the main entryway. “YASHA! FJORD, VETH, YEZA, fuckin’ ANYBODY!”

Caleb took a calmer and more direct approach, flagging down one of the cats and politely asking it to gather anyone who was in the tower. Then, he sat, letting his eyes go distant as Beau paced nearby.

After four minutes and twenty three seconds (one hour and twelve minutes now since he was meant to start looking) Fjord appeared. His hair was wet, and he was still pulling on his boots as he floated down.

“What the fuck is going on?” he said, putting on an annoyed front to cover his worry. “I was trying to relax-- the bath is excellent by the way, thank you, Caleb-- when one of these little demons started yowling at me. What’s so important you had to drag me out here? Did you find out something about Molly?”

“We need to find the others,” Caleb said, rising. “Jester, specifically.”

“Jester,” said Fjord in alarm. “Why, what happened?”

“She’s fine,” said Beau. "We're pretty sure she's fine. But... someone sent this to Caleb at the Archive. No note."

She extended the envelope with a grimace. Confusion clouded Fjord's face as he took it and looked inside. Then, he went very still. Gently, almost reverently, he slid the lock of hair onto his palm. His thumb traveled over it, once, twice, smoothing it absently. Caleb watched, heart stuttering as Fjord pieced together what it meant. His hand closed around the lock, clenching to a white-knuckle grip. Beau stepped toward him, reaching out a supportive hand.

“We don’t know anything for sure,” said Beau.

“Don’t we?” Fjord looked up, eye’s colder and sharper than Dwueth’var. Caleb tried to convince himself that none of the anger and condemnation in his friend’s gaze was meant for him. He failed. 

“We need Jester,” Beau repeated. "We need her to find him."

A muscle in Fjord’s jaw jumped as he looked at the lock in his fist. He shook himself slightly, running a hand over his face and blowing out a breath.

“She was going to that dance hall, the one you took us to,” his eyes snapped to Caleb before becoming distant with memory. “Veth and Yeza took Luc to some show, Jester wanted to take Yasha dancing to take her mind off things. She tried to convince me to go, but I wanted to stay. I… I don’t know if he went with them, where he would have gone. I didn't ask… I didn’t think…”

Fjord’s voice trailed off. Caleb exchanged a glance with Beauregard, feeling sick and helpless.

“One thing at a time,” Beau said. “We have a place to start. Let’s go.”

They hurried out, leaving the Tower in place. In case, by some miracle, their friend found his way back. In case he hadn’t been captured and imprisoned and tortured. In case they found him and needed a safe retreat. In case they found what was left of him--

No. That wouldn’t happen. Caleb wasn’t used to exercising hope, but he would try.

They rushed through the streets of Rexxintrum, not unnaturally fast, but quick enough to cause some disruption among the traffic. Even so, no one hassled them. If his demeanor was a match to Beau and Fjord’s, they probably seemed too dangerous to cross. That was fine with him, as long as they made it to their destination quickly. Every minute that passed only added to the weight in Caleb’s chest. He couldn’t stop his mind from listing and categorizing his intimate knowledge of Volstrucker practices. What they could-- what they _would_ do to someone alone and vulnerable. Someone gentle and good.

One hour and forty-one minutes.

They burst into the crowded drinking hall, barely noticeable amongst the voices, laughter, and music. Even among the many patrons on the dance floor, Jester and Yasha were easy to spot. The barbarian looked awkward, but at ease as the smaller tiefling woman maneuvered both of them in a chaotic weave through other couples. Beau was already approaching the pair, and their faces lit as they spotted her. Caleb’s gut churned as Beau said a few words and gestured to a nearby table. He and Fjord made their way over.

“--can’t believe you guys came!” Jester was beaming from the chair she’d thrown herself into. “Fjord was staying behind to polish his sword, or something--”

“Well, that wasn’t quite--”

“--and I thought you guys had a lot of research to do,” her smile faltered as she took in their faces. “Unless… what did you find out?”

“What’s wrong?” Yasha echoed.

“We didn’t find anything out,” Beau said after a pause. “Something happened. Jester, we need you to use Sending, or Scrying. We need you to find--”

“CADUCEUS,” Jester yelled over the din of the crowd, looking past Caleb’s shoulder. She stood, waving her arms. “WE SWITCHED TABLES, WE’RE OVER HERE!”

A buzzing sound filled Caleb’s ears as he, Beauregard, and Fjord whipped around to see a tall gray and pink form headed in their direction from the bar, smiling easily and balancing three drinks. Caleb stumbled toward him, Fjord hot on his heels. Their firbolg friend drew up as they nearly barreled into him, but Caleb stopped short and held out his arm to stop Fjord from closing the distance. Feeling the other man's glare on the side of his face, he quickly cast Dispel Magic at the figure before them.

Nothing happened.

There was no magic. No illusion.

Caduceus was really here before them, looking befuddled and a bit concerned. Real. Whole.

_Safe._

The edges of Caleb's vision grayed out as Fjord pulled from his hold and began looking Caduceus over for injuries. Caleb moved past them, patting Caduceus' arm vaguely as he made a beeline for the exit, head swimming.

He made it to an unoccupied chair on the patio before his legs gave out. He gulped lungfuls of cool air, willing himself not to pass out as cold sweat chilled him from head to toe. His entire body was trembling.

Beau found him there two minutes and fifteen seconds later. By then, he had gotten his breathing under control, though he was still shaking. Silently, she sat across from him. She slumped in her chair, leaning her head back till her face pointed at the ceiling. She looked as wrung out as he felt. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. They sat in silence.

One hour, forty-six minutes, and fifty-three seconds.

“They have questions,” Caleb rasped, wincing at the sound of his voice. Apparently, a mad dash through Rexxentrum could be hard on the throat. Who knew?

Beau offered him the endless flask, but he waved it away, pulling out his own water skin instead and taking a drink. His nerves were still singing, but he wasn’t quite ready to dull them. They had been attacked, after all. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. But an attack on the psyche is still an attack.

Beau put the flask away, taking a gulp of water herself.

“Yeah,” she said. “We haven’t told them yet. Too many ears here. And Fjord asked Caduceus to dance, so that’s been a good distraction.”

Caleb glanced in through the window. Yasha sat at the table they had claimed, nursing her ale with a soft smile. Beside her, Jester was grinning as she sketched the other two members of their party. Fjord smiled up at Caduceus, relief obvious in every line of his frame even through the shadows of fear that still clung to the edges of his expression. Caduceus himself looked as flustered as Caleb had ever seen him. His eyes bounced between his feet, his partner, and his friends at the table, stumbling through the steps. Still, Caleb caught sight of a wide grin that flashed behind where his hair had fallen in his face. Unbidden, Caleb’s eyes began to search for which section of hair was now shorter than the rest, cut by a Volstucker's blade.

He turned away, stomach clenching.

“Fuck, man,” Beau said. “Is it weird that I’m looking forward to ice monsters and god-killing weapons? I knew he was bad, but this is fucked up.”

Caleb nodded tightly.

"I really thought we lost him," Beau said, softer and quieter than her usual tone.

Again, Caleb nodded, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Uuugh,” Beau groaned. “I really hope you aren’t blaming yourself. I have a stress headache, and I’m not sure I can beat the sense into you in a nice way right now.”

“I should have warned him,” Caleb said. “Before the dinner. I should have made sure he understood.”

“It’s Caduceus,” Beau said. “He says things like that. He can’t help it. I honestly can’t tell how much of it is compassion and how much is sass…”

“Then we shouldn’t have brought him,” said Caleb, running a hand through his hair and trying to control his breathing. “There is a target on his back now, and I helped put it there.”

“Caduceus chose to walk into that tower,” Beau insisted. “He isn’t stupid. He said what he said, and it was his choice. Ickithon was probably going to pull shit like this regardless of whether one of us pissed him off. We all understood that going in. Yeah, this was... a wake-up call. But we’ll just have to be more careful in the future. Buddy system, right?”

Beau smiled weakly, but Caleb couldn’t manage it.

“Hey,” Beau said, shooting a piercing look his way. “He’s okay. We’re all okay.”

“And who do we have to thank for that?” Caleb spat. “He’s made that clear, hasn’t he? Someone got close to Caduceus. With a blade. And _Caduceus_ , of all people, didn’t notice. He’s in there, right now, alive, talking, dancing, because Trent Ickithon wills it to be so. From now on, anytime Caduceus heals us, saves us, pulls us back from the brink, it’s because Ickithon chose not to take him from us.”

Caleb stared at the table as silence settled.

“You know that’s bullshit, right?” Beau said.

He looked up. She was in her stubborn stance, arms crossed, eyebrow angled.

“Think what you want,” Caleb said. “I know how he works. He’s been pulling the threads of my life for decades.”

“Again, bullshit,” Beau said. “Look, the Plank King could have killed us in Darktow. He let us go, so does he get credit for everything we’ve done since then? The Gentleman could probably have us assassinated--except for Jester--but I’m not gonna thank him for choosing not to. The Inevitable End, Yussa, the Bright Queen, Artagan--we know some powerful people and guess what? They don’t have fuck-all to do with the good we’ve done just ‘cause they haven’t fuckin’ murdered us!”

Caleb blinked a few times.

“You don’t understand--”

“No, I think I _really_ do,” Beau said, leaning forward, eyes direct and hard. “You were in Kamordah. You heard the shit my dad tried to pull. Trying to take credit for who I am, because he sent me away. No. He fucked up. He’s an asshole, and a terrible father. My awesomeness had nothing to do with him. And the things you do, they have nothing to do with _Trent_. He doesn't own you. He doesn't even know you."

Beau stood and started back inside the dance hall. At the last moment, she turned back.

"Next time you think that Ickithon is secretly behind everything you do, I want you to remember something," she said. "In the last ten days, you used magic to turn into a tyrannosaurus and fight another tyrannosaurus. Which you ate. You made a shocking number of dick and unicorn themed decorations for a cult. You made a tower with a fuckton of cat butlers. And you put a sex mirror in it for me. So, if Trent Ickithon planned all that… well, he's a lot more interesting than his creepy, pale, raisin-ass would lead me to believe."

Nodding to herself, she made her way back inside. Caleb watched through the window as she approached their friends. Yasha stood, moving close to Beau and muttering a few shy words. Beau nodded enthusiastically and led her onto the dance floor. Jester began to draw even more frantically.

Affection battled the fear in his heart as he looked on. Part of him wanted to run and keep running, because he knew the pain of losing a loved one. Of being responsible for that loss. The thought of going through that again with one of the Nein… it terrified him.

Inside, Jester caught his eye through the window and grinned. Eagerly, she beckoned to him.

With a rueful smile, he stood and walked back inside. As terrifying as his new life could be, leaving it behind was unimaginable. There would be hard conversations today and hard times ahead. He might come out worse for wear. But today, his family was around him.

And it was time to dance.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be more "Ickithon threatening Caduceus to get to Caleb and the Nein.” Cause nobody’s really come after our boy specifically in-game, and I just think it’s neat to see his friends worry about him. Also, turns out Caleb is really fun to write.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
